


After the Fall

by ElienRey



Series: The Lost Years [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElienRey/pseuds/ElienRey
Summary: Hugh, in the aftermath of Lore's disastrous leadership, has a lot of hard decisions to make. But first, he needs to see Geordi.
Series: The Lost Years [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703908
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	After the Fall

“Wait,” said Hugh, his footsteps echoing obscenely loud thumps through the chamber as he clattered down the stairs from Lore’s ostentatious platform. Picard and the others were assembled in the middle of the room, a second away from beaming out of his life forever. To his credit, Picard stopped at his desperate shout, hand hovering over his combadge. Hugh came to an awkward halt in front of them, mouth opening to say “I changed my mind, I want to stay with you, please,” but what came out instead was, “I want to see Geordi.”

“He’s very sick, Hugh. He’s recovering in the Enterprise medbay,” said Riker, genuine regret in his voice. Hugh already knew that, had supervised the early transport of Geordi and Troi off the surface.

“Does he need to be transported to another hospital?”

“No,” said Riker. “The Enterprise and our Dr. Crusher are more than up to the task.” He sounded impatient. He and the others wanted to be away and gone. They didn’t want to think about Hugh and the other Borg anymore, on to the next galactic mission. The Enterprise was never the cleanup crew.

“I wish to see Geordi,” was all Hugh could think to say, the only way he could express the pain in his chest when he thought of never seeing Geordi again. Riker opened his mouth, probably to tell Hugh again that Geordi was too sick, but Picard stepped forward, putting a forestalling hand on his first officer’s arm. Stepping around Riker, Picard turned his penetrating stare on Hugh.

“Why do you wish to see Geordi, Hugh?” He asked the question like it was a test he expected Hugh to fail, and Hugh found himself straining for a logical answer. There was nothing but the sick feeling in his stomach when he thought of how awful Geordi had looked when they’d transported him up.

“Geordi’s my friend,” was the only response he could make. It was the right one, he realized, seeing Picard’s face visibly soften.

“We can spare a few hours delay while the repairs are underway,” he said, not a hint of that softening showing in his voice. Hugh, confused, turned to Riker and then Data. Riker smiled at him, and Data gave him a nod which Hugh chose to interpret as supportive, although Data’s expression did not change.

He joined their circle, Riker clasping his shoulder in what might be a friendly gesture, but the way Worf stuck close to him as well made Hugh suspect he wasn’t entirely trusted. It didn’t matter as long as they’d let him see Geordi.

When the Enterprise’s transporter bay materialized before them, Worf broke off with him, shepherding him down familiar beige corridors. Hugh didn’t need to be told the way; he was intimately familiar with the Enterprise’s sickbay, had kept the maps his optical relay had created of the Enterprise tucked away even as the entire might of the collective had attempted to pry them from his grasp.

It wasn’t until they reached the doors of sickbay that Hugh hesitated, something stilling his footsteps before he could activate the double doors. He heard a grunt from behind him. Worf, growing impatient, probably resenting having to babysit Hugh on what surely must seem a frivolous mission to him. 

“Will he remember me?” he found himself asking, hating how his voice wavered. How was he supposed to bring an entire people together if he couldn’t even go through a set of doors?

“He is unlikely to forget,” said Worf, voice loud and impatient. “You aided in his rescue. He will not be angry to see you.” Hugh nodded, forcing his organic hand to press the door controls, the mechanical swish revealing a bustling medical bay, blue dressed officers hurrying past. 

Shadowed by Worf, he took a cautious step inside. It didn’t take long for the medical personnel to spot him, pausing in their tasks, one nurse dropping a tray with a loud clatter. 

Hugh stood frozen, their gazes pinning his feet to the floor. The last time he’d been in this medical bay he hadn’t understood their fear, the guards who constantly shadowed him an irrelevant detail. Now he could see in their faces, in their cautious return to work only after noting Worf’s reassuring presence, the instinctual terror he inspired. 

“Hugh!” said a voice, snapping him into motion, spinning around to see Beverly bearing down on them from her office. “It’s good to see you again. They told me you wanted to visit Geordi.” 

When she reached them, she took Hugh by the shoulders, turning him gently toward a darkened corner of the medical bay. He felt himself stiffen at the contact, conscious mind spinning out in confusion, even as his feet followed her guiding arm across his shoulders. “Now, he may not be awake. I’ve informed him he needs to rest,” she warned as they reached the darkened medical bed. 

Hugh took a breath, held it for too long, let out a panicked sigh. Geordi looked awful, skin still clammy, eyes closed and face creased with lines of pain. The nodes had been removed from his skull, the only remaining implants the blinking connectors at his temples. His visor was on a nearby instrument tray.

“Is he going to be alright?” Hugh asked, struck with a sudden terror that Lore had damaged him permanently, had inflicted on Geordi what he’d done to the others. 

“He’s going to be fine,” Beverly reassured, her arm tightening across his shoulders. Hugh found himself liking the sensation, even as its alienness sent warning bells through his proximity detectors.

“Hugh?” said Geordi, eyes flickering open a moment later. “Is that you?” Sightless white orbs stared up at Hugh. He felt a surge of relief that Geordi was awake, aware, and knew - remembered - who Hugh was. Geordi’s hand reached across the divide between them, fingers grasping at air. Hugh hesitated, uncertain what he was supposed to do. Beverly smiled, indulgent, kind, nudging him forward. Hugh took a tentative step toward Geordi, trying to smile, although he knew Geordi couldn’t see him.

“Hi, Geordi,” he said, inane and useless. 

“It’s good to see - well, I’m glad you’re here, Hugh.” Geordi reached further, fingers fighting the air for something, but Hugh didn’t recognize the intention. It took Beverly miming clasping her own hands together for him to understand. Geordi wished for physical contact. He reached out, and gingerly, as if Geordi might break if he held too tight, gripped him with his organic hand. Geordi tightened the hold, grasping as if Hugh were a lifeline. 

“I’m sorry for what Lore did to you, Geordi,” he found himself saying, regretful beyond expressing that Geordi had been caught in this mess.

“It’s not your fault,” said Geordi, pulling Hugh closer to the bed. 

“I am still sorry. We never should’ve trusted him.” He lapsed into awkward silence, unsure what else to say. He’d imagined meeting Geordi again many times, but not like this, never like this. Geordi nodded, distressingly sluggish in his reactions.

“We all make mistakes, Hugh. And Lore, well, we trusted him too, once.” He grimaced at the memory. Hugh wanted to ask, but refrained. Painful memories would not help Geordi right now.

“He was… charismatic,” said Hugh, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.”I-I must confess, I have no idea how to take his place. I-” he shut his lips over the next words. He wanted to ask for Geordi’s advice, for someone to tell him what to do, but he couldn’t ask Geordi to do that, not while he was lying injured in a medical bay. Even Hugh knew that would be wrong. But who else could he ask? Geordi had taught him what having a friend meant, and he was the only friend Hugh had ever known.

“Hugh, it’s going to be alright.” Hugh felt the distant grip on his hand tightening. “Hugh? Hugh!” Why was he speaking so loud? Hugh opened his mouth to respond, but there was something hard blocking his throat, trapping his tongue. He felt himself pulled away, firm, large hands on his shoulders, low voices receding into the distance. His feet moved against his will, an almost comforting, familiar loss of self as the world grew hazy.

The next thing he was aware of with any clarity was a jolt of energy to his cybernetic systems accompanied by a surge of adrenaline to his organic. The room resolved into the bright lights of the medical bay, although he was no longer in the patient wing but sequestered in Beverly’s office. 

Worf was looming at his shoulder, and an engineer hovered in the doorway holding equipment. Beverly was frowning down at a medical tricorder. She looked up when he moved, tugging experimentally at the conduit attached to his charging port. They had cobbled together a makeshift power adapter on the doctor’s console, similar to what they’d made for him before in the brig.

“Welcome back,” said Beverly, a soft smile wiping away her frown. Lines of worry remained etched at the corners of her eyes.

“Where did I go?” asked Hugh, utterly confused. He’d been with Geordi, holding Geordi’s hand. Had he hurt Geordi? No, if he had, Worf would have dragged him back to the brig, not Beverly’s office.

“That’s a very good question, Hugh. Counselor Troi believes you had a panic attack.”

“A panic attack?” Hugh cocked his head, trying to process the unfamiliar concept.

“Yes. Have you experienced one before?” She sat on the edge of her desk, closing the medical tricorder, her full attention on Hugh. He shifted, uncomfortable under her inquisitive gaze. He had lost time before, his mind flitting away under the strain of burgeoning individuality. He’d seen others paralyzed by fear, unable to move or speak. He hadn’t had a name for it before. The Borg didn’t consider mental health relevant. Any abnormalities that cropped up were quickly subsumed by the hive mind.

“I am defective,” he said, disengaging from the charging port.

“Hugh, no,” said Beverly, slipping down off the desk to stop him from moving away. Worf tensed at his side, hand moving toward his phaser. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Beverly continued, hands on his shoulders as she’d done before, looking down at him with a gentle expression he couldn’t quite read. “Panic attacks can be a normal response to extreme stress, and I’d say being handed responsibility for your entire community counts as extreme stress. And -” she gently gripped his cybernetic arm, guiding it back to the port. “You’re starving. My scans show signs of prolonged malnutrition in both your cybernetic and organic systems.” He nodded, not resisting as he felt the shock of energy coursing through him.

“Lore rationed the energy output. He claimed it was because supplies were limited, but he gave more to those he favored. For those who broke away from him, we had to siphon power from his generators in secret. Too much would risk exposure.” He’d had to make decisions sometimes, about who would receive nutrients that day and who would not. It was often easier to abstain himself, especially as some of the others had resented valuable resources going to aid their injured comrades.

“Oh, Hugh,” Beverly sighed, stepping away again, turning to pace across her office. She seemed angry, but why he didn’t know. He decided to wait and watch, storing as much energy for later as he could. Finally, she stilled, facing him again. “Hugh, would it be safe to say you and the other Borg are in need of assistance?” 

“Assistance?”

“Humanitarian aid. In fact, I don’t think it would be too far a stretch to call yourselves refugees, would you?”

“I do not know what that means.” Hugh knew the bare definition of the word, but he thought Beverly might be getting at something larger. 

“You’re displaced from your homes, displaced from your people by violent, unfortunate circumstances.”

“I would not want to go back to the collective again.” He was starting to feel alarmed the longer he did not perceive her intentions. She stilled in front of him, a grin splitting her face.

“Yes, exactly. Under Federation law, you and the other Borg are entitled to seek asylum as refugees.”

“Doctor,” Worf growled, the reminder of his presence startling Hugh. “The Borg are not refugees. They captured our people just hours ago.”

“That was Lore, Worf. He took advantage of a vulnerable population. The Borg need help, not condemnation. If they were granted refugee status, the Federation could send them supplies, counsel, perhaps even the chance to become citizens.”

“Citizens?” Worf snarled. 

“Worf, you of all people should understand what Hugh and the Borg are going through.”

“The Borg are a dangerous enemy. It would be foolish to invite them into the Federation, separated from the collective or not.”

“I’m sure some people said the same thing about a Klingon orphan.”

“It is not the same-”

“Excuse me,” Hugh interrupted, not raising his voice, not expecting to be heard, but the other two stilled instantly, both staring at him as if he’d shouted. “What, what are you talking about?”

“The Federation could help your people, Hugh. All you have to do is ask.”

“Ask how?” How did one ask such a chaotic, disparate entity as the Federation anything?

“Ah. That’s where it gets complicated.”

An understatement, Hugh realized, after she showed him the sixth form he’d have to fill out.

“And this will give us supplies?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief. “Medical treatment?”

“Yes. Well, possibly. As long as your application is accepted.” 

“Is that likely to happen?” 

“With the Captain and my recommendation, I think you stand a very good chance.”

“What would we have to do in return?” If Lore had taught him nothing else, he’d imparted the need to make sacrifices for any kind of service. 

“I would like to say nothing, but at the very least you’ll have to agree to abide by Federation law and sign a code of conduct. At most - well, it’s possible some scientists may want to work with you, to understand the Borg better.”

“Experiments, like Lore.” Hugh hated the idea, the thought of being poked and prodded as disposable objects. 

“No, not like Lore. We have strict rules about dealing with sentient subjects in scientific research. You won’t be harmed without your consent. Ideally, you won’t even be scanned without consent, or some damn good medical cause.”

“We did consent, Doctor. Lore never forced us to do anything. He convinced us that sacrifices had to be made for the greater whole. You can imagine how easy that was for him to do, a group of former drones, desperate for leadership.”

“Informed consent,” said Beverly gently, “is something we take very seriously. No one will do anything without the full knowledge of all parties. No one will hold your survival over your heads, not in the Federation. You don’t need to make any decision now, Hugh. I’ll send you all the reading, all the forms, and when you’re ready, if you decide this is the best option for your people, you can send them off to the nearest Federation outpost.” He nodded, still wary. He didn’t know how the others might react to such an offer, didn’t even know if he should consider it with how vulnerable all of them were. Maybe it was only so tempting because he wanted to be rid of this responsibility, to hand off the pressures of caring for the others to someone, anyone else.

“I-I will think about it,” he told Beverly. She was being very kind, perhaps kinder than he deserved after blaming her and her crew for what had been done to him. 

“That’s all I ask.” She smiled, clasping his organic hand in her own. He squeezed back, enjoying what contact he could get. 

“Can I see Geordi again?” 

“I think he’ll insist on it,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. 

When they came out again, Geordi was sitting up in bed with his visor on. Hugh, feeling much better for being well fed, perhaps for the first time since the Borg had abandoned him, made his swift way over to Geordi. Geordi looked up at his approach, really seeing him for the first time since he’d watched Hugh return to the collective over a year ago. 

“Hugh,” he said, face lighting in a smile. He put aside the PADD he’d been holding, hoisting himself upright to get a better look at Hugh. “Are you alright? You gave me a scare there.”

“I’m fine. Beverly said I had a panic attack.” 

“That’s understandable. Hey, I’ve been thinking. There’s no reason we can’t stay in contact with each other. I mean, after the Enterprise leaves,” he clarified at Hugh’s confused expression. “We could be pen pals,” he continued, as if that explained everything.

“Pen pals?” Hugh searched his database, coming up with zero equivalents for the term. Another thing the Borg had deemed inconsequential, he supposed.

“It would only take a few hours to transmit messages to the nearest outpost,” Geordi continued. “And then it’d be relayed to wherever we are. It might take a while, but it would get through eventually.”

“I would like that very much,” said Hugh, putting his confusion aside. He understood that he would get to talk to Geordi. He would get to send messages whenever he wanted, to ask for advice when he had no idea what to do. Then a thought struck him. “Geordi, would I have to have refugee status for the Federation to relay my messages?”

“What? No? Anyone can use the relay service, as long as the recipient is a Federation citizen. What’s this about refugees?” Hugh told him what Beverly had suggested, hoping he didn’t sound as terrified as he felt at the prospect. 

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” He reached out without prompting to grip Geordi’s hand.

“I don’t know, Hugh.” Geordi gripped back, stronger than he’d been before. “It’s really up to you and the others. I will say, there are a lot of people like Lore out there, people who will see you and the others as easy pickings, especially with the amount of dangerous, valuable technology you have. The Federation’s probably the least likely to take advantage of that, and the best candidate to protect you guys from another Lore.”

“That is logical,” Hugh agreed. If they were too cautious about trusting anybody, they might just end up alone and without any kind of protection from those who were truly malicious. “I have a lot to think about.” Geordi laughed, a full-throated chuckle that made Hugh’s chest tighten unexpectedly. 

“That’s an understatement. I really don’t envy you, Hugh, but I know you’re going to be okay.”

“How?”

“I just do, Hugh. It’s called faith. I have faith in you.” Geordi gripped his hand tight, almost too tight, but Hugh just held on and tried to believe too.


End file.
